


Therapy

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Sexual Damage, Sex Toys, Sticky Sex, Uncomfortable but Consensual, Voyeurism, fear of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1788226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shockwave assists Blurr in preparing himself for the Decepticon way of interface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fun thing I found and spruced up from my old files. Enjoy~!

It had been a long process to acclimate Blurr to interface with Decepticons, and even longer to prepare him for accepting anything close to the size of Shockwave’s spike inside himself. Beyond long, it was painful and embarrassing, and, after a point, rendered him largely immobile. Shockwave attributed Blurr’s quick conversion from defiant to demure to this period of time. This was not to say he hadn’t been eager enough when they had started, but the way he had channeled his fear had noticeably changed as things progressed.

Blurr’s pelvic span was small, his waist even smaller, and he had confessed once that even larger Autobot frames had been difficult for him to take before. Had Shockwave not been so svelte they would have probably been completely incompatible. The first step in the process was stretching. Shockwave’s claws were large enough to begin with; one of them, when inserted fully, about as thick as the largest spike he’d had so far. After a while though he became accustomed to their width, and that’s when Shockwave began plugging him.

He had several plugs lined up, which he showed to Blurr beforehand so he would understand better what was going to happen to him. Lined up on the berth, they had looked imposingly surgical, thick grey tubes with rounded ends. Of course he hadn’t wanted to do it, although he didn’t actually say anything to that effect. Blurr was trying so hard, at that point, to stifle the bad feelings he carried with him, the realization of what he had done in coming here still settling in his hard drives.

It was a commendable effort, which Shockwave did not hesitate to tell him. Blurr needed all the encouragement he could get at this point, lest he begin to regret his choices. As with his claw, the first one had no hurt very much, if at all. It was more of a discomfort than anything. Shockwave had warned him, however, of what was to come, and when the third plug finally brought pain it was almost relief, the wait over. It worked through simple stretching for the elastic parts of his valve, but things like the calipers and gridding had to be carefully broken and then repaired by his own internal systems, healing wider and wider each time.

Overall it had taken approximately eight lunar cycles before he was really ready, and they had been turbulent at best. At the end of it Blurr was tired and weakened, and had developed a fear of contact with his interface equipment. This was, of course, planned and accounted for, and when he had healed up completely Shockwave came to him with placating words and open hands. Blurr had been happy to see the final plug go and he wasn’t particularly enamored by the thought of having something else inside him so soon, even though it would be considerably less painful now. Shockwave decided the best course of action was to re-accustom him to pleasurable stimulation in the area externally, then work their way up.

“Open your legs, dear.”

Even as he spoke he crossed his own, comfortable but not casual as he observed Blurr from across the room. The pet-name was an additive he had learned to use when Blurr was particularly distraught, and even now he could see its effect. Blurr was perched on the edge of their shared berth, legs dangling off the edge and kicking out every so often. He slowly pulled his knees apart, head bowed low in shame. He didn’t have to be asked to remove his panel, which slid back with a silent whirl of internal mechanisms, trained and poised. Shockwave had explained the point of this exercise already, but he recognized Blurr’s apprehension. While logically he could see its purpose, he still felt inclined to assume the worst, to flee. He was still skittish, but he trusted Shockwave.

There was a device on the berth next to him, one that Shockwave had gotten for this exact reason. It was a self-charge expulsion unit, for external stimulation only, a long, thick handle topped with a bulbous head. Blurr had been carefully avoiding acknowledging its presence, but now Shockwave was gesturing for him to pick it up. His fingers were shaking so badly it took three tries to properly grasp the thing, and he had to clutch it to his breast for fear of dropping it. Shockwave, nodding, threaded his claws together in his lap.

“Do not turn it on just yet. Touch it to yourself.”

Blurr hesitated just long enough to get another encouraging roll of Shockwave’s wrist. Angling it downwards and gripping the handle with both hands, like a knife, he lowered the head to just barely kiss the lips of his valve. He pulled it away quickly after, sputtering with nerves, and looked up at Shockwave pleadingly. His ventilations were quietly speeding up, stifling panic. Shockwave didn’t have to move to prompt him to try again, silent stare more than enough.

Withering under his gaze, Blurr tried a second time, more firmly than before. Shockwave waited a long moment, ensuring that he would not falter, before relaxing.

“Move it against yourself.”

Primus bless his spark, he tried. Every servo in his body tensed, until he quivered with effort, struggling with himself until he complied, just barely. Pushing down, pulling up, he managed to dampen his defense protocols enough to continue the slow, mechanical motions. Fear kept him dry but tension lubricated him, and pretty soon he was coating the device with a thin, shimmery layer of fluid. Contented to watch him treat himself, Shockwave remained straight and still.

Unfortunately his will wasn’t enough.     

“Sir,” he begged, shuttering his optics so he wouldn’t have to see the disapproval he was so sure he’d receive, “Sir, I can’t, I can’t, I just can’t, it’s too much…I can’t…” and then he cut himself off with a long whine. Shockwave shifted in his seat, sighing deeply.

“You can, Blurr, and you will.”

Blurr didn’t remove the implement from his crotch, shaking so badly that he could hardly keep his grip. He bit his lip, ventilations coming in ragged and high. It was clear he was going to have to push extra hard to help force Blurr through.

“Blurr.”

He was twisting his head from side to side, as if holding still would break him faster. Honestly, it probably would have; stillness was death to him. He had seen Blurr, in several situations, completely overcome when immobile or close to it. It was heavily exacerbated by the severe claustrophobia he had developed since his resurrection from cube state, and even from across the room, he could see that the walls were closing in. 

“Blurr.”

Optics resolutely offline, Blurr started nodding rapidly, a slurry of words tumbling gracelessly from his mouth between gasps.

“Yes Sir, yes Sir, I’m listening Sir, I am, I am, I just, I’m trying Sir I am, I am, I am.”

“Look at me, dearest.” Smooth, slow, gentle.

Within the left optic, a beam of light cracked. He urged him on, the picture of stability.

“Look at me.”

Two pinpricks of blue formed inside the black band of optical filament. The verbal torrent did not stop, but he lowered his voice a little, bowing his head down until his gaze, wide eyed and timid, met Shockwave’s at a demure tilt.

“You are doing well, Blurr.”

He didn’t look convinced.  

“I’m really really trying, Sir,” he was saying, over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He sounded so piteous that Shockwave actually experienced an odd moment of discomfort, a deep squeeze somewhere inside him. Long ago this would have given him pause, as such sensations were generally signs of malfunction, but enough had passed between them now for him to recognize it for what it was and equally prepared him to crush it down.

“Turn it on.”

Blurr started shaking his head rapidly.

“You will be fine, Blurr. I am here.”

His legs closed, then quickly opened again. Quivering so violently it seemed he’d fall apart, he slid his thumb down over the shaft towards the toggle that activated the interface aid, hesitating just above it. His hips shifted nervously, inadvertently pushing himself harder against the fat head. Another jerk and Blurr’s exterior node ground into it, mouth hanging open in a helpless moan. Shockwave let him move at his own, uncharacteristically slow pace. It was part of the healing process, after all.

Choking out a half sob, he flicked the switch. It activated with a loud rumble, testament to its surprisingly strong motor, and Blurr’s reaction was instantaneous. Spinal strut snapping straight as a rod, he jerked his head back, mouth and optics wide open in breathless silence. Then,

“Oh Shockwave oh ShockwaveShockwaveSirohpleaseofPrimusIcan’tdothisIcant’dothisIcan’tIcan’tohShockwavepleasepleaseplease!”

He thrashed, held only in place by his own willpower. The buzz of the machine was proud and lewd, made slick by the suddenly rapid progress of Blurr’s lubrication system. Shockwave stiffened in his seat. This exercise was about Blurr, not himself, but he could not deny the way he was stirred by the sight. Blurr dug his heels into the side of the berth, forcing his thighs to remain spread. Light fizzled and burst from his optical filaments, overheating rapidly as he burned with both shame and arousal.

“Very good, very good. Keep going.”

Hips bucking awkwardly, Blurr’s teeth broke his lip.

“I, I am, I am-!”

His vents were flickering open and shut, sputtering loudly as he tried to retain control of his movements. Helm thrashing from side to side, Blurr looked as though he were fighting for his spark itself and not a simple overload. Yet, as he battled his horror, his hands never strayed. Shockwave crossed his legs.

The aid was intensely powerful, spattering his fluids between his legs and down the berth side in a violent blur. Whining and mumbling, Blurr, beside himself, shook as he strained to lift his hips into the movement. His external node burned, calipers loosening as trained, and each black flash of pleasure was slowly draining his ability to negatively react. Nothing hurt. Nothing slowed him down. There was only fire here.

“I’m really really really hot Shockwave I mean I know that I should be and that I would be I just, it’s so, it’s so much and I don’t know if I can keep going like this I, I, I don’t, I don’t know but I want to do it for you I want to make you happy I want it I want it Shockwave I do!”

He babbled on and on, unconsciously crushing the head of the device against the swollen folds of his valve, harder and harder as the vibrations circulated through him. His thighs felt heavy and weak but he managed to hold them up, just barely, struggling now as the tightness drew inward in his stomach. He recognized the pinching, the raw sensation of desperation that flooded his circuitry now, stemming the tide of panic as it overwhelmed him.

“You’re making wonderful progress.”

There was no response he could muster beyond a strangled whine, sensation overpowering emotion. Shockwave watched him and he watched back, unable to tear himself away from the prick of red light in the dark, the quiet heave of cooling fans he could just make out above his own frantic wailing and the roar of the interface aid. His entire array throbbed, the wet pulse of his valve mimicking the beat of his turbulent spark.

Too much, too fast.

“I’m gonna, I can’t, I can’t, Sir I can’t stop myself I, I-!”

“It’s alright, Blurr.”

Shockwave wanted to touch him. It was an odd feeling, the desire to break form for the sake of his little pet. Yet here he was, watching those thin thighs squirm and thinking it would be nice to be between them, as counterproductive as it would be at this stage.

“You may overload.”

It was enough. Blurr arched back, howling as he came, a full body shudder that made the berth pad tremble wracking his frame. The vibrator rumbled, muffled only slightly by the gush of lubricants that spilled, wet and messy, from within. It was the first real bliss Blurr had felt in conjunction with his physical being in so long that he nearly sobbed, blind and weightless. The aid’s movements resonated within his entire frame.

Observing as he collapsed back, Shockwave was already on his feet, looming closer. The aftershocks seemed to keep coming, even after he had plucked the toy from Blurr’s jittery fingers and turned it off. Light spilled from his distant optics, flickering slowly as he gaped at the ceiling.

“Blurr?”

He stroked a claw down his side, and Blurr jumped.

“Are you well?”

Blurr hissed static, but seemed to calm at his touch. Finally lowering his stiff legs, he swiveled his helm to loosely gaze into Shockwave’s single point of vision.

“I…I...”

 “It’s alright. You do not have to answer immediately.”

Seating himself beside his little frame, Shockwave continued to pet him as his chassis slowly cooled. He had made quite a mess, but the drones could deal with that later. Blurr weakly pushed towards his side, still laying limp, desiring closeness. It was exactly the behavior that was expected from him, and Shockwave purred contentedly. He sought out his keeper for comfort. The perfect reaction. Flaring his field against him, Shockwave made his approval clear.

What a good pet.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”


End file.
